


The Harder You Fall

by AgentExile



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anxiety, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, It's basically just warm and fuzzy, Kissing, M/M, Massage, One Shot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-10
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2019-01-31 15:25:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12684597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentExile/pseuds/AgentExile
Summary: When Yuuri suffers a nasty fall during final practice, his championship hangs in the balance. With his ankle under ice, he waits anxiously for the doctor’s verdict.Luckily Viktor is on hand with kisses, massages, and mugs of hot cocoa.~~(Or: the happy-ending injury-to-fluff oneshot I wrote to recover from the NHK)





	The Harder You Fall

**Author's Note:**

> I swore to myself that I wouldn’t write anything new until I’d finished with my WIPs, but my heart broke following Yuzuru’s injury this week and I wanted to write something (very) loosely inspired by the events with a positive resolution in order to handle my feelings.   
> I hope that you enjoy it ^_^  
> (Disclaimer: I’m not a medical professional - please forgive any terrible advice)

The jump was off-axis before he had even finished the second rotation. Instinct fought thought, his brain wanting to pop the jump but his body determined to continue with its revolutions.

   Over the last few months, Yuuri had got better and better at recovering jumps in the air. Viktor had spent many an hour with him, foreheads close together, teaching him to visualise his landing. _Your edge is waiting for you_ \- _keep your faith that the blade is there_. Nine times out of ten he could scramble an emergency landing. This was number ten.

   The ice came too quickly, his right leg still tucked under his left, running edge nowhere to be seen.

   In a flash, momentum carried his body back down, dependent on that unready leg, edge failing to find purchase. His limbs splayed, right leg bending under him at an unnatural angle as the toe-pick caught awkwardly in the ice. He only just had time to feel the shard of pain shooting up from his ankle before his back hit the ice and the wind was knocked out of him.

   Stunned, he lay on his back for what could have been a second or could have been a minute, before rolling onto his side.

   Yuuri rooted his right skate beneath him, ready to push himself back up as usual, and gave a cry out loud as the knee buckled beneath his hands.

   ‘Yuuri!’ called Viktor, only a few yards away on the boards.

   He turned around, now sat back on his side, and met Viktor’s eyes. They were heavy with worry, his lips drawn into a tight line. He knew that something was not right.

   Slowly, as he found his breath, Yuuri became more acutely aware of the pain radiating from his right knee and ankle. ‘No… come on…’ he groaned out loud, heart pounding against his chest. ‘Not now…’

   It was barely twenty-four hours until the start of the short program. The Japanese fans would be collecting their flags and packing their bags, ready to cheer him on.

   ‘Not _now_ …’ he repeated.

   ‘Yuuri!’

   He needed to get up. The other skaters in the practice group were skating on around him, and he was agitatedly aware that he was taking up space in a jumping corner.

   He used the magnetism of Viktor’s voice - his lamplight in the darkness - and forced his left knee under his body this time, righting himself and hovering on his good foot carefully. He performed a quick body check. His head hadn’t hit the ice, and his back felt only a little sore from the impact. Neither hand had taken the brunt of the fall, and his left leg seemed as stable as ever. But even as he tested his right inside edge to glide a little, a hot-rod of pain seethed up to his knee again.

_Walk it off_ , he thought, trying out a few more uneasy pushes while keeping his weight firmly over his left leg. He changed his objective. _Get to Viktor._

   The few metres felt like miles, but finally he was across the ice, and Viktor’s hands were reaching out from the gate, eager to catch him. All of the press who had been invited to the practice had turned their cameras on them. His fingers closed firmly around Yuuri’s arms, half lifting him off the ice. Yuuri hopped unsteadily on his left skate, disconcerted as ever by the suddenly solid ground beneath him.

   ‘Where does it hurt, my love?’ Viktor said immediately, adjusting himself so that he could wrap his arm around Yuuri’s waist, hoisting him away from the prying eyes.

   ‘Ankle. Knee.’

   ‘Okay, let’s get you out of here. We’ll get some ice on it. You’ll be okay.’

   ‘I’m going to miss it. I’m not going to be able to make the short tomorrow. I’m going to miss out on the final.’ Yuuri could feel his heart-rate ever increasing, his breath coming in rapid gasps, the panic attack brewing.

   ‘Shh,’ Viktor murmured absentmindedly, concentrating on pushing their way through the side curtain and placing Yuuri down on a wobbly plastic chair. ‘It’s alright.’

   He rested his hands on Yuuri’s knees, ever so gentle on his right leg, rotating his thumbs softly against the bone. He forced Yuuri’s eyes to his own, holding his gaze steadily, even as Yuuri blinked. There were tears in his eyes.

   ‘We’ll go back to the hotel and have the team doctor come to visit.’

   ‘The competition, Viktor, I’m going to miss it. And without my second event - ’

   ‘Stop worrying about the grand prix, Yuuri. All that matters is that you’re okay. We’ll wait for the doctor before we start to fall apart.’

   Yuuri nodded slowly, squeezing his eyes shut and feeling the panic cool down to a quiet simmer.

   ‘Come on, let’s get a car back.’

   ‘I should finish practice. It’s the last official practice before tomorrow. If I take the boot off now, the swelling will get too big and - ’

   ‘Yuuri, as your coach, I am telling you to do as I say.’

   Yuuri looked into those unusually anxious blue eyes, and conceded.

*

Just one hour later found Yuuri propped up in his hotel bed, his right leg balanced carefully on a pile of cushions and wrapped tightly in ice packs. Viktor was sat comfortably beside him, apparently unconcerned, playing some sort of counting game on Yuuri’s fingers.

   The Japanese team doctor was taking notes on a clipboard in between prodding at Yuuri’s joints.

   ‘How can you be so calm?’ Yuuri said, a little more resentfully than he had intended. Viktor’s lack of outward reaction was starting to frustrate him - only his eyes betrayed any kind of worry - but Viktor was not rising to any of his bait.

   ‘There’s no point in panicking until we know anything.’

   ‘My leg is wrapped in ice and every time I move I feel like someone’s hitting me round the knee! I think we know something!’

   Viktor looked at him, the rest of his face still unreadable, and then said, ‘I’m not calm. My pulse is rushing and I’m actually perspiring. But I’m your coach, Yuuri, and it’s important for me to keep the situation under control, so will you _please_ stop panicking?’

   ‘I’m sorry Viktor.’

   ‘Any pain from this?’ the doctor asked him in Japanese, as he squeezed Yuuri’s knee.

   He let out a seething sound. ‘Yes. Yes, that hurts.’

   ‘Hmm. It seems that most of the injury to the knee seems to be superficial bruising.’

   ‘I felt it twist!’ said Yuuri, almost a little defensively.

   ‘Well we’ll keep an eye on it. If there is still swelling on the ankle tomorrow morning then you may still be unable to compete.’

   Yuuri looked even more crestfallen. He couldn’t wait for hours in limbo like this.

   ‘Thank you, Okamoto-sensei,’ said Viktor, whose Japanese was fractured but improving every day.

   ‘Thank you, sensei,’ Yuuri said begrudgingly.

   When the doctor had left, he flopped his head back against his pillow, pulling his hand away from Viktor’s.

   ‘Yuuri, if the damage is superficial, then this is good news!’

   ‘I felt it twist!’ he said in indignation.

   ‘You worry too much.’

   ‘It’s not your body,’ he grumbled.

   Viktor’s face softened, and he sat bolt upright, swinging his legs off the bed. Yuuri watched as he went through his bag, heading over to one of the cups on the tea tray. He started taking ingredients out of the food parcel that he had assembled for the short trip, filled with Yuuri’s favourites.

   ‘What are you doing?’

   ‘Well if we’re going to be locked in this hotel room until the doctor clears you, then we might as well make an occasion of it.’ He gave Yuuri a warm smile. ‘Starting with cocoa.’

   ‘Vitya,’ Yuuri whined, ‘you know chocolate is for the off-season. It’s full of fat!’

   Viktor ignored this. He busied himself over the mug and microwave, making an elaborate display of the preparations. Viktor was no cook, but he was proud of his cocoa.

   ‘Is that - ’

   ‘Just a dash of amaretto,’ said Viktor, with a self-satisfied smile. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t get you drunk the night before the comp.’

   ‘Wouldn’t matter anyway. It’s not like I’m going to be able to skate.’

   Viktor seemed to have become conveniently deaf, ignoring this too and humming to himself.

   A minute later, he was tottering back over to the bed, mug in hand, and held out Yuuri’s drink proudly. ‘Drink,’ he commanded, in his best coach voice.

   Yuuri took the hot mug, trying to look moody but unable to conceal his slight sigh of comfort as the warmth travelled through his fingers to his body. Viktor bustled over to check Yuuri’s ice packs. ‘Not much swelling to speak of,’ he said, giving his leg an experimental prod.

   ‘Ow! Viktor!’

   ‘Hmm.’ He walked on, now pulling up a blanket from the end of the bed and leaning closely over Yuuri to spread it over him. He tucked it in around Yuuri’s body carefully, smoothing the wool over his chest with lingering fingers.

   Back to his side of the bed, he climbed in beside Yuuri under the covers, nestling as close as he could to his body.

   ‘Your feet are cold!’ said Yuuri, but in spite of everything, he was smiling now.

   Viktor made a point of pressing his toes against Yuuri’s good leg. Yuuri giggled and pulled it away, but he rested his head against his shoulder instead.

   ‘What do you want to watch?’ asked Viktor, lifting his laptop from the nightstand and opening it.

   ‘Skating,’ whispered Yuuri, even though it made his heart ache.

   ‘What skating?’

   ‘You skating.’

   Viktor beamed, his vain side showing. ‘Which one?’

   ‘The world championships when you wore the purple… the Chopin program! Do you it?’ Yuuri didn’t really need to ask. Viktor was a hoarder of tournament downloads, with copies of almost every single notable competition of the last decade, even from the junior or senior B level. Mostly he proclaimed that they were useful teaching aids, but sometimes Yuuri would catch him watching back either his own or Yuuri’s victories. Each time, he would awkwardly close the laptop and mumble about comparing Yuuri’s flip technique to his own. The memories made Yuuri’s smile grow even bigger.

   ‘Of course I have it,’ Viktor said smugly, opening the file and skipping ahead to the final group warm up.

   He wrapped his arm around Yuuri’s shoulders, pulling him even closer. Yuuri closed his eyes as they showed the warm up, settling himself on Viktor’s chest and listening for his even heartbeat. The soft pulse against his cheek, and the steady rise and fall of his chest, would have been enough to send Yuuri to sleep if it were not for the ache in his leg.

   Viktor’s hand went to his hair, stroking through the strands gently. He brushed it away from Yuuri’s face, fingers tracing circles at his hairline. He could feel the tension knotting Yuuri’s forehead.

   ‘Oh I remember that boy,’ he said absentmindedly, ‘he had a lovely lutz.’

   Yuuri frowned, opening his eyes to get a look at the man on screen. ‘He’s good-looking,’ he said, a little petulant.

   Viktor laughed smoothly. ‘He’s not my type.’

   Placated, Yuuri closed his eyes again.

   Viktor adjusted his position to allow both of his hands to go to Yuuri’s temples. He transitioned from playing with his hair into a firm but slow massage, long fingers extending down his jaw, over the clenched teeth, up the forehead, to the back of his head, working out every tightness that he could find.

   Yuuri drank his cocoa without looking. He didn’t need to tell Viktor how good it tasted.

   His body was finally relaxing, muscles loosening that he hadn’t even noticed were tense. The pain in his leg seemed to be settling to a minor discomfort.

   ‘ _Viktor Nikiforov, representing Russia!_ ’

   The commentary was in Russian, but Yuuri could hear the English announcement in the background, and his eyes snapped open.

   Young Viktor was so beautiful, his radiance illuminating the ice. His hair was still long then, pulled back into a loose knot that could not stop the strands escaping around his face.

   ‘I looked tired then,’ remarked Viktor. ‘I can’t remember why.’

   ‘You look amazing.’ He could not think of a word in English that was adequate to describe Viktor, but that would have to do.

   ‘Oh no, I remember! I’d fallen in the morning practice and hurt my back. I wasn’t sure if I was going to skate. Yakov even suggested that I withdraw. But it was all fine in the end - I won the competition.’ He looked down at Yuuri, holding his eyes. ‘That’s what you’ll do tomorrow.’

   The creeping doubt was still radiating from that leg. ‘Less talk, more massage,’ he mumbled, sipping at his chocolate.

   Viktor resumed his magic, shifting Yuuri’s weight a little so that he could work his way down his neck and shoulders.

   The soft ballade of Chopin combined with Viktor’s miraculous fingers was making him sleepier than ever.

   He struggled to keep his eyes open, smiling his way through Viktor’s combination jump. He actually laughed when he took a slight wobble on his flying sit spin.

   At the end of his program, Yuuri sat up, drinking the last of his cocoa and putting down the cup. ‘You skate like an angel,’ he said, tone teetering between that of a fan and that of a lover.

   Viktor looked down and settled a soft kiss to his forehead. Then a kiss to the tip of his nose, which made Yuuri turn away with a sweet laugh. Viktor turned his head back with a finger to his jaw, tracing it up to his lips before replacing it with his kiss. For a moment, the fear, the anxiety, the pain were all gone.

   ‘You _are_ my angel,’ said Viktor when they separated, planting two more quick kisses to the corner of Yuuri’s lips. ‘And you taste of chocolate.’

   ‘I love you Vitya.’

   ‘I love you more, my sweet and healthy Yuuri.’

   The reminder of his condition made Yuuri glance sadly to his iced-up leg. He didn’t feel healthy.

   Still, he trusted Viktor more than anyone else in the world, and Viktor had said that he would be fine in the morning.

*

   ‘There is a little bruising, but no swelling,’ said Dr Okamoto, inspecting his leg.

   Yuuri had slept better than he ever could have imagined given his stress. Something about the cocoa and the coach had made him especially comfortable.

   ‘What do you think?’ asked Viktor, trying so hard with the language again.

   ‘I think that your student is very lucky,’ said the doctor.

   Yuuri exhaled, sitting more upright so that he could get a proper look at his leg and foot.

   ‘If you have any considerable ankle pain, then we should send you for some tests, but otherwise I see no sign of internal injury.’

   ‘So I’m cleared to skate?’ Yuuri said incredulously.

   ‘I’d recommend avoiding any jumps which take off on your right foot - ’

   ‘No more quad flip, either,’ Viktor muttered in English.

   ‘ - but yes. I don’t see anything to exclude you from skating today.’

   Relief flooded every particle of Yuuri’s body. He was _fine_. The twist, the collapse, everything that had snowballed and intensified in his anxious mind, all forgotten. Viktor had been right, as he always was.

   He closed his eyes and let Viktor take him in his arms for a few more moments of rest, with no thoughts except for the warmth of Viktor’s skin against his.

   The competition could wait a couple more minutes.

*

As he took his first few steps out onto the ice to the tumultuous applause of the Japanese crowd, Yuuri barely gave a second thought to his fall. He turned a couple of twizzles, right foot almost as comfortable as his left, and settled himself in the centre circle.

   He just had time to glance over to Viktor, already holding the boards nervously, waiting for him to start. His coach might think himself calm, but Yuuri thought that right now, he might be even more relaxed.

   Nothing could stop him now. No fall, no axis, no pressure. Nothing could stop him with Viktor at his side.

   He would top the podium, qualify for the grand prix final, and he was going to win.

   Yuuri took one slow, steady breath, looked up, and his music began.

    

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading!   
> (And get well soon Yuzu! <3)


End file.
